


friends with benefits (the friendship is the benefit)

by readythefanons



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Modern AU, Platonic Soulmates, Rated T for swears, Self-Indulgent, but it isn't a soulmate au, passive aggressive dress wearing, what if childhood friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: Mr. Gloucester does not approve of his son’s new friend. It's okay because Leonie maybe kinda hates Lorenz's dad right back.glimpses into a 'verse where Lorenz and Leonie grew up as childhood friends
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester & Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 16
Kudos: 20





	1. growing up up

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic soulmates let's go  
> Content warning for Count Gloucester I guess :P also swears

Mr. Gloucester does not approve of his son’s new friend.

She is too loud, for one thing. She is loud and dirty and unruly and _poor._ Everything about Leonie Pinelli is—wrong, from her hair to her family to her voice, too loud and grating. She is impolite, barging in where she is unwelcome. 

Mr. Gloucester’s son, on the other hand, is too _quiet._ He is too quiet and likes to stay inside and doesn’t like noise and doesn’t make friends, and—

Mr. Gloucester thinks, perhaps, if he allows his son to associate, temporarily with this… other child, perhaps something of the traits that are hers will transfer to him. 

He is more correct that he knows. The pertinent phrase is _be careful what you wish for._

* * *

In Leonie’s estimation (not that she knows the word yet), Mr. Gloucester is a _huge jerk-face._ Her own dad says she needs to be nicer and more understanding and forgive Mr. Gloucester because he’s under a lot of stress, being a single parent and having a high-pressure job and all, but—well, there’s something in how her dad says it (to say nothing of the look on her mom’s face when dad says all that nice-nice stuff about Mr. Gloucester. Leonie doesn’t know the word _sardonic_ yet either, but she’ll learn). He says the words, but his lips don’t quite match up.

At any rate, Mr. Gloucester is Lorenz’s dad, and an adult, and so he is entitled to _a modicum of respect._ (Leonie does know the phrase ‘modicum of respect’ because it sounds great and she’s not dumb, so. She remembers it when she hears it.) And even if Leonie thinks Lorenz’s dad is a jerk-face, Lorenz loves him so. She can be nice-nice, she guesses.

But _Mr. Gloucester_ is so, so—arg. He makes Leonie feel things she doesn’t have the words for yet. He makes her _angry._ Like—he really seems to care about Leonie’s hair? He thinks it’s too short, and not suitable, and maybe it’s short because she has _lice_ which is just—just—it’s rude, is what it is. She has short hair because she likes it! And just because she’s ~~poor~~ lower-middle-class, doesn’t mean she has _lice._ But Mr. Gloucester thinks girls’ hair should be long, and he thinks boys’ hair should be short, and for some reason he _really seems to care about it_. Once, when Leonie gets her hair cut before Lorenz, her hair is shorter than his, and Mr. Gloucester frowns _extra_ hard. (And Lorenz looks—something Leonie doesn’t have the words for yet. It isn’t good though.)

She lets her hair grow out, keeps it a bit longer, just to be safe. It’s not that much extra work to take care of, and it’s kind of pretty she guesses.

* * *

Lorenz’s room is nicer than Leonie’s. It’s bigger and cleaner and there are no thumbtack holes in the wall, and there’s _definitely_ no areas where the plaster came off a bit because someone used tape to put up a picture and now they have a new poster hiding the damage. Lorenz’s room looks like something out of a magazine, with everything shiny and new and all the colors going together instead of being higgledy-piggledy. And he doesn’t have to share his room with his stupid older sister.

Leonie likes Lorenz’s room more than hers, but as soon as Lorenz sees Leonie’s room, he knows it’s superior. Leonie’s whole house is crowded and messy, but it’s—Lorenz likes it. Leonie has a solar system mobile she made with her dad hanging over the bed. Leonie has a blanket made of old shirts that her grandma made. Leonie has pictures tacked up on her side of the room, real photos and drawings on lined paper and pictures from magazines. 

_Leonie_ gets to have stuffed animals on her bed (and on the shelves, and sitting on top of her wardrobe) because she’s a girl. She has _so many_ stuffed animals, and they’re all soft and nice to hug. Leonie’s favorite is obviously Jerry the Lion. He gets the seat of honor on top of her pillow, and his fur is all matted and bunched from being hugged all the time, and his whiskers are twisted and bent.

Lorenz’s favorite—if he had a favorite, which he doesn’t—would be Rose the Horse. She has a soft mane made of yarn, and there’s beads or something heavy in her hooves so she can really stand up, and her fur is really soft. Unlike many of Leonie’s other toys, her eyes haven’t gotten cloudy and scratched from being played with too hard. Her eyes are bright purple, and there are sparkles in them.

When they play (Lorenz has to because Leonie _makes_ him, and she’s a girl and you have to be nice to girls), Lorenz always grabs Rose, and Leonie always grabs Jerry. The others come and play—Todd and Stella and Muncher—if it makes sense for them to join in, but Jerry and Rose always play together. Sometimes they’re brother and sister, and sometimes they’re explorers, and sometimes they’re doctors, and sometimes they’re even married, but they’re always best friends. That’s just how it is.

Leonie makes it a point to give Rose a place of honor next to Jerry when the sitter comes to pick Lorenz up, which is nice of her. Lorenz doesn’t need that, but it’s nice of her.

* * *

Once, when Lorenz’s dad is away on a business trip, there’s a really big snowstorm and all the flights get delayed. This is, for many people, deeply inconvenient. For Leonie, though, it’s _kairos_. (‘Kairos’ is a Greek word for, like, the perfect timing. Leonie knows that because her mom and her sister have a book club, and Amelie was talking about how much she was totally in love with kairos, and isn’t kairos the perfect word, and blah blah blah. Amelie has such a loud voice that Leonie can hear every word she says, whether she want to or not.) It’s kairos because it means Mr. Gloucester can’t come home when he said he would, and the sitter has to go home to her own family, and please please can Lorenz come stay with us, mom, he doesn’t have any other family.

Leonie’s mom assures Mr. Gloucester that of course they have room for Lorenz, and they even have an option, he can sleep in Leonie’s brothers’ room, or else he could sleep on the fold-out couch, whatever makes Mr. Gloucester feel comfortable. She furthermore reassures Mr. Gloucester that of _course_ she understands his concerns, she has sons herself after all, but that as a _mother_ she would just feel more comfortable knowing that _his_ son blah blah blah. She answers a bunch of questions about nutrition and strict bed times and more blah blah. She smiles the whole time (Leonie watches) but under the table her foot goes _tap tap tap_. She copies down several phone numbers and recites them back to Mr. Gloucester. Leonie has just figured out that Mr. Gloucester is _quizzing_ her mom and is starting to get angry when Leonie’s mom smiles (a real smile this time) and says, “Thank you, George, it really is a relief to me, as a mother, to know…” and blah blah blah “Thank you, really, I mean it,” her mom is saying, “I’ll pick him up right away—a Subaru Forester, why? Yes, it does have all-wheel drive, thank you. No, of course not, I _appreciate_ your concern. Of course. Yes. Uh-huh. You, too. Take care, bye.”

Leonie’s mom _finally_ hangs up the phone and sighs, and then she gives Leonie a look and says, “You owe me one, kid,” and Leonie knows her mom’s joking, but she plows into her stomach to give her a hug anyway because _yes!_ She would owe her mom a hundred and one if she asked.

Leonie wants to go with her mom to pick up Lorenz, but her mom replies that she can clear her debt by picking up her side of the room, and… Yeah. Okay. So Leonie’s mom drives all the way across town to pick up Lorenz, and Leonie picks up… everything. There’s a lot to pick up, her mom was right. One down, one hundred to go, she guesses.

Lorenz turns up with a suitcase and an extra pillow and capers and smoked salmon for Leonie’s parents, which seems weird but okay.

It gets much, much weirder when Leonie’s mom sits them down and says that Lorenz’s dad (Mr. Gloucester) wanted it to be made totally clear that—they’re… not allowed to touch each other’s bathing suit areas? Leonie and Lorenz recoil—not just from each other but also Leonie’s mom and the _very concept of bathing suit area touching_ —and Leonie’s mom smiles, kind of. It’s her _I-told-you_ smile, and it’s not directed at Leonie or Lorenz and _ew._ Gross. So gross. Eugh. Blahhhhhh. Leonie’s mom laughs and ruffles the hair on both their heads and says, “Good kids. Lorenz, we were planning on chili for dinner, but if you need to eat something else, please tell me now so I can get started.” 

That brief, dizzying descent into weirdness aside, Leonie is _pumped_ because _they are having a sleepover._ There is nothing more exciting than being seven and having a sleepover. 

Mr. Gloucester picked the fold-out couch for Lorenz instead of Leonie’s brothers’ room, which is convenient because it’s in the living room, and they were going to fall asleep in the living room with the TV on anyway. They pull apart the couch for cushions and construct a fort immediately. Then they go to Leonie’s (and Amelie’s, but she’s away) room and get all her stuffed animals and get down to business. 

After dinner, they deconstruct the fort and pull the couch into a bed for Lorenz, and Conrad and Eric turn on the TV and put a movie on. They all end up sitting on the bed-couch, and Conrad and Eric don’t _leave_ and Leonie eventually figures out that they’re there to make sure there’s no _bathing suit touching_ which is just as gross now as it was a few hours ago. Blegh. She is starting to feel mutinous (she learned the word mutinous and it’s the perfect word for her, she loves it like her sister loves kairos) when Conrad catches her eye and gives her the head nod that means ‘Realtalk Time.’

She follows him into the hallway and he leans against the wall and says that Mr. Gloucester is Lorenz’s dad and he gets to make the rules for his kid and even if they’re stupid they’re still Lorenz’s dad’s rules. _Ugh._ Conrad doesn’t say ugh, Leonie says ugh, but Conrad nods and says, ‘I know, but do you want to get him in trouble?’ and _no._ She doesn’t. So she shakes her head, and Realtalk Time is over so they can go back to the living room and Conrad is already turning to go when—

“Thank you,” she says. “I know you have better things to do than sit around with a bunch of kids, so. Thanks, I guess.” And Conrad turns and smiles at her and ruffles her hair ( _ugh_ it’s one thing when their mom does it, but from Conrad it’s so annoying) and they all stay up and watch movies.

* * *

Leonie’s birthday comes and Lorenz gives her—a dress. It’s. It is the worst present he can ever imagine giving, worse than, than a newspaper subscription or even _socks_ because at least Leonie actually wears socks. They should get Leonie legos, or one of those really big sets of markers, or, or new sneakers because her old ones have holes in them.

But Lorenz’s father has already spent the money (even though Lorenz _knows_ he could just return it) and has already taken the time (even though Lorenz knows his _assistant_ probably bought the stupid thing) to get it, and anyway Lorenz is. Grateful. He guesses.

He wraps the dress up, making sure the corners are neat, and puts a ribbon on it, and he goes to fill out the card and all he can think to write is— _I’m sorry._ Because this is the worst present ever, and she is going to hate it if he’s lucky and be _sad_ if he’s not, and—

Writing _I’m sorry_ on the card would be stupid because his father will definitely, definitely see it, and then his dad will be sad, or hate it, and—

Okay. Lorenz can figure this out. This is just another puzzle to solve. Okay.

 _Dear Leonie,_ he writes because that’s how letters start, that’s safe.  
_Happy birthday!_ He writes this very big, in block letters, and mostly manages to fit them all. He’s putting stripes on the exclamation point when he figures it out.  
_My father and I hope you like this gift. I hope that we will always be friends._ Actually, that second sentence is probably a mistake. Well, he’s using marker so. No going back. He sighs and finishes writing.  
_Your friend,  
Lorenz_

On the left side, next to his note, he draws a picture of Leonie, in a big puffy princess dress, with a tiara and a wand, standing over a tiny city filled with animals. Maybe she will see the pink, puffy dress and know what’s coming. Maybe she will see the tiny horse and lion smiling in the city. Maybe she will see _my father_ and know that—Lorenz wanted to get her something good, not something his father thought she should like.

And Leonie’s birthday party comes, and it’s a picnic in the park and their whole class is invited, and Leonie gets to Lorenz’s gift, and—

“Read the card first,” Lorenz blurts. “To yourself.” And everyone is staring at him, and Leonie gets a crease between her brows, but she does it. And the crease between her brows gets deeper for a moment, and then it… smooths out. And she looks up, and her eyes find Lorenz’s, and, and—she is going to _hate_ his _gift_ , and it’s her birthday, and he’s supposed to be her best friend, and—

She opens the gift. She holds up the dress. It is blush pink, and the top is satin and the skirt is satin underneath with a layer of, of tulle on top to look airy and floaty, and there is a satin rose on the waist and a bow on the back, and they could have bought _two pairs of sneakers_ for the amount his father probably spent on the stupid dress.

Leonie saved his gift for last because he is her best friend and you’re supposed to save the best for last, and now she doesn’t even have any other presents to open, and—

One of their classmates makes a noise, like a, a groan of, of disbelief, and and—

Leonie holds the dress up higher, and her face is smooth and calm, and she says, “Everyone stay here. I’m putting it on.” And then she takes the awful dress and runs off to the bathrooms (the bathrooms here are gross, Lorenz has learned, apparently that’s just what parks are like?) and her mom follows her, and some of the other girls follow too, and—

She comes back, and she’s wearing the dress. It has wide straps and her arms are tanned from the elbows down, and her dirty, holey sneakers peek out from underneath. She puts her hands on her hips and says, “Ta-da.” She is not smiling. She looks… determined? And then she does a spin.

The skirt flares and settles, as delicate as a flower petal, and one of their classmates says, “You look like a princess,” and then another girl is saying the same thing, and Leonie is at the center of a group of girls who want to touch her dress, and she catches Lorenz’s eye through the crowd and nods, once, and face is smooth and her mouth has turned up at the corner and her eyes are very, very calm. Lorenz—doesn’t know what it means.

* * *

For her birthday, Leonie’s best friend gives her a dress. It is a pretty, pretty princess dress, and it has a bow and a flower and Leonie hates it immediately. But she loves Lorenz, he is her best friend, and when she opens it he looks like he’s going to cry. So she puts it on and spins around and when their classmates (who know something is wrong here because they might all be kids but they’re not _stupid_ ) tell her she looks like a princess, because that’s what you say to a girl in a dress like this, she says she’d rather be queen. Queen of the elves. That sounds like something Leonie might actually enjoy. And then they play Magic Kingdom (which is actually just tag), and the first time Leonie trips she thinks _oh no, my dress_ because _grass stains_ and then she thinks—aha.

Mr. Gloucester is the worst jerk-face in history.

She thinks maybe Mr. Gloucester hates her, and honestly? Fine. She maybe hates him _right back._

There is no way Lorenz picked out this, this fluffy, floofy thing, and that means Mr. Gloucester picked it out. And Lorenz looked like he was going to be sick when he handed it to her, and he looked horrible when she opened it, and—And Mr. Gloucester was always so mean to her when her hair was short, joking that he thought she was a boy, and now when she’s too loud or accidentally bumps into things he tells her to be more ladylike, and that’s not even getting into every time he’s made a joke about _Lorenz_ not being a man, and _this dress_ —

It is so, so pink, and so, so fluffy.

It’s what her mom calls a _stain magnet._ (Well, actually, Leonie is the stain magnet. All her clothes are just collateral damage, which means they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.) It’s light pink, and it’s made of fancy shiny fabric, and the skirt is really thin, and the whole thing is begging to be ruined, except that _nice girls_ don’t ruin their nice clothes. This is just like Mr. Gloucester quizzing her mom, and Leonie is angry.

So they switch from playing Magic Kingdom (tag) to Wishing Well (which is really just trying to throw beanbags into smaller and smaller bowls) and Leonie is careful not to run and doesn’t sit on the ground and she’s extra careful when she eats her cake (which has bright blue frosting to look like a river and plastic crocodiles and palm trees in it) not to drop anything on her dress, and before everyone’s parents come to pick them up she begs Hilda to put her hair up in pigtails because that’s what her mom always makes her do when she has to look girly for family photos.

And when Mr. Gloucester comes to pick up Lorenz, Leonie makes sure to skip over to say thank you. And she does a little spin, with her pigtails and her princess dress, and she thinks _I don’t know what game this is, but I’m going to win._


	2. and away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of qualms about this chapter but I hope you like it *hides face*  
> We're into high school at this point

Leonie’s hair is really long. People at school don’t realize how long it is, but it is _super fucking long._ Leonie cuts her hair just often enough to not get split ends, and that’s it. As far as she’s concerned (for now), the longer the better. It can get long enough to strangle a full grown man with, is what she’s going for. She’s doing a Rapunzel over here.

At school, Leonie keeps her hair up. Pony tail, braid, pins, hat. She keeps all that nonsense tucked away. It’s usually up at home, too, because, uh, school happens almost every day, and once it’s up it might as well stay that way. People tell Leonie, when they see how long her hair is, that it’s pretty. Leonie smiles and says thank you because that’s just polite.

On the occasions when Leonie can’t steer clear of the Gloucester house, Leonie puts her hair down. If she’s feeling pugnacious, she puts a headband on too, plus make up, just enough to look ‘natural.’ Mr. Gloucester has some extremely boring and outdated ideas of how girls should look and act, and under other circumstances stick-in-the-mud, boring old dudes who are bitter and lonely can go straight to heteronormative hell, but unfortunately Mr. Gloucester is Lorenz’s dad so. 

When Leonie forgets to put her hair down, the frown lines around Mr. Gloucester’s mouth deepen, just barely. Leonie doesn’t have to be a genius to notice that there’s a direct correlation between the depth of Mr. Gloucester’s frown lines and Lorenz’s tendency to go into fits over things that don’t matter. That shit can’t be good for him, so she gets good at remembering when to put her stupid hair down.

* * *

Lorenz respects his father, of course. His father is an intelligent, successful man who commands the respect of every room he walks into. However, he does not understand how his father can be so blind to Leonie’s—attitude to the dresses. 

Lorenz has, unfortunately, continued “his” tradition of “gifting” pretty dresses to his best friend. Leonie owns a _staggering_ number of pastels given her… everything about her.

The thing is, she _wears_ the dresses. Every month, Lorenz’s father dines at the Leicester Country Club, and every month Lorenz accompanies his esteemed father, and Leonie accompanies Lorenz. Every month, she wears one of the dresses, and every month Lorenz is sure his father is finally going to notice the look on her face. Leonie inherited her mom’s sardonic smile and her dad’s skeptical eyebrows. _And yet_ , Lorenz’s allegedly accomplished and intelligent father always smiles smugly when he sees his son’s _girlfriend_ , isn’t she lovely? Yes, she’s a little rough around the edges but she was clearly just an unpolished diamond, hasn’t she grown into a perfect lady under the Gloucesters’ benign and generous influence.

Lorenz’s father is ~~the worst~~ ~~embarrassing~~ ~~a smug son of a bitch~~ a complex figure with good intentions, probably. 

Oh, and off the record, Lorenz and Leonie aren’t actually dating, but it’s just easier to pretend they are for Lorenz’s father. Lorenz’s father really, truly does not believe there can be such a thing as friendship between men and women ~~which is probably why he’s been alone most of Lorenz’s life~~ which is sad for him.

Leonie is almost alarmingly good at pretending to be the kind of girl Lorenz’s father could almost find acceptable. She stands demurely when Lorenz pulls her chair out for her, and she hangs off of Lorenz’s arm when they walk, and she blinks vapidly when Lorenz holds the door for her. Lorenz would expect the _vapid blinking_ to give the game away, but Lorenz’s father just nods approvingly at all this pageantry.

Leonie says she doesn’t mind, and she usually makes a joke about the cost of prime rib and the price of admission while she’s at it, but Lorenz knows she doesn’t like it. He doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t like it either. So he figures they’re both counting the days until Lorenz turns eighteen ~~and is no longer answerable to his dickhead father~~ and becomes a man in his own right.

Except.

When Lorenz mentioned it outright she gave him the skeptical eyebrow and the sardonic smile and said, “You forget about college?”

* * *

They only say it once. 

It happens pretty early into the whole fake dating scheme. They are at the country club, bleh, and Leonie has her hair down and a ribbon in her hair and is smiling like she finds old rich dudes flexing over how rich they are just _fascinating_. Some celebrity came out last week, and while it’s a nonevent for non-geezers (except, you know, good for him), the rich morons are all a tizzy over it. And Mr. Gloucester, being the richest and moroniest of all, is whispering way too loudly to his friend that _of course_ she, Leonie, is not who he would have _chosen_ for his only son, but even if he’s dallying beneath his station, at least he’s not a—

Yeah.

Anyway, it kind of happens that Lorenz, uh, _is_ a “—” and although Lorenz _knows_ it’s not as bad as Mr. Gloucester thinks it is (or, you know, _bad at all_ ), he can’t escape the fact that Mr. Gloucester is his father. And so.

Lorenz, unfortunately and inevitably, hears Mr. Gloucester saying that word, and he—doesn’t react. His expression doesn’t change and his complexion doesn’t change, and— In a way, that’s worse. He’s as cool as a cucumber because he’s heard it all before, and he can make like it doesn’t bother him so well that ~~only an idiot would believe it~~ he can fool his own father. 

Leonie follows his lead. She’s not as good at it as Lorenz, but she’s not too bad. She doesn’t change her expression and keeps smiling and blinking like a moron and just _holds on._ And they hold hands under the table because they’re _girlfriend and boyfriend_ and they’re _in love_ and Leonie holds Lorenz’s hand so tightly she’d be worried she was cutting off the blood flow to his fingertips except that he’s gripping her back just as hard.

For the record, they’re both “—” It’s just that you’d have to be as stupid as Mr. Gloucester not to figure out that Leonie isn’t exactly straight. 

Anyway. They clean their plates and stand up to get dessert together, hand in hand, because they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. While they’re standing in line, Lorenz lifts her hand and kisses the back of her knuckles, an apology on his face, and Leonie tugs his hand and presses it to her cheek before kissing his palm which means _I love you._ She does, and he knows it. Aw, aren’t they cute, boyfriend and girlfriend, they were childhood friends you know, and now high school sweethearts, and blah blah white picket fence two-point-five children maybe a dog someday. Barf.

It isn’t until much later, after they’ve left the country club, that they say it. It is late, and they are in Leonie’s room, curled together on her bed. Their fancy clothes are hanging up in the closet, replaced with worn cotton and ratty flannel.

Leonie says, out loud, to Lorenz, “I hate your dad.” Her voice is quiet, but it fills the air and doesn’t quite fade away. They don’t talk about Mr. Gloucester.

Lorenz says, “I know, but. I. Don’t.” Leonie is pulling him closer before he even gets the words out, trying to curl around him like that will make a difference.

“I know,” she whispers. She does. Mr. Gloucester is a dickhead and a jerk-face and he’s _Lorenz’s dad_. Goddamn. “You love him. I know. I’ll hate him enough for both of us.” Lorenz huffs a sound that is too hollow to be a laugh. “I will, and I won’t apologize.”

“I love you.” He presses close, and his face is buried in the crook of Leonie’s neck. She cards her fingers through his (short, always short) hair.

“Love you,” she says, and _that_ is easy to say. It is harder to say, aloud, “You deserve better.”

“I… I have better,” he says, and she doesn’t know if he means it but she trusts that he wants to believe it.

* * *

Lorenz goes away for college. Leonie stays.

They fight about it, kind of, because Leonie—can’t afford to go out of state, and Lorenz (well, Mr. Gloucester) can afford it, and—

Lorenz offers to stay, says a bunch of crap about how UFL is a good school, actually, and if he stayed—

Leonie calmly (loudly) and reasonably (shoutingly) replies that Lorenz will stay under his father’s roof over her cold, dead body, and Lorenz… doesn’t really disagree. The argument that they could get an apartment or something together is summarily shot down. The argument that Lorenz could get his own place in town doesn’t even take flight.

Lorenz goes. Leonie stays.

He takes Jerry. She keeps Rose.

They tell everyone (Mr. Gloucester) that they—they’re not breaking up (haha remember that, they’re dating because they’re childhood friends and _so straight_ ), but they’re not seeing each other, exactly, and Mr. Gloucester doesn’t quite hide his smile and says something approving about being reasonable and surprisingly mature. Leonie knows he means _Good, now my son can find a suitable girl_ and if she didn’t hate the old dickbag so much, she might actually feel sorry for him. Because Lorenz is actually a pretty cool dude, in spite of his horrible father, and said horrible father barely even knows him.

* * *

College is different. It’s easier in some ways and harder in others, and that’s—not unexpected. 

Some things are predictable. It’s easier to be living in a strange city, in a strange state, surrounded by strangers than to be living at home (which—that contrast is its own kind of hard). It’s hard to be away from Leonie. There’s phone and text and even snail mail, but it just isn’t the same. Even though there’s no reason to keep up the charade out here, he keeps letting people think she’s his—his long-distance girlfriend, or maybe his ex, just because it’s easier, that way to explain that sometimes it just feels like part of him is _missing._ He’s making friends and meeting new people and all that, but, ouch. He misses her.

Some things are less predictable. He misses Mr. and Mrs. Pinelli, and Eric and Conrad and even Amelie even though he rarely saw her since the older girl was away on her own for practically his whole childhood. He does okay in his econ class and does really well in his applied mathematics class, and—he takes physics on a whim, and—he’s staring at the registration form for second semester, and it’s like suddenly the whole future unrolls in front of him. 

He still has time, if he works for it, to double major. His father doesn’t need to know.

He works, harder than he ever has in his life, fulfills all his requirements and lines up an _engineering job_ and Leonie cheers on the phone and his father doesn’t know, and he checks with the bursar, makes sure his account is settled, and then it’s graduation and—his father is there, looking stuffy, and _all the Pinellis_ are there, and Leonie, short hair glinting in the sun, is screaming in excitement and hugging him around the neck, and he just—he picks her up and spins her around. And he is crying, a bit, and she is crying, and Leonie’s mom is dabbing her eyes, and Leonie’s dad and siblings are employing the trick of smiling extra hard so they don’t cry, and Lorenz’s father is _scowling_. 

God, Lorenz’s father is a dick.

“Twenty-two and you’re still a sissy,” he sighs, and Lorenz’s father is a _dick._ But, he’s a dick who just paid for Lorenz’s college, which he has just graduated from debt-free, so. Perhaps he’s entitled to a modicum of respect. As Leonie would say, haha, no.

Lorenz hugs his friend to him, still holding her midair, and says, “I’m moving to the east coast.” And Leonie is _cackling_. “You’re packed, right?” he asks her, and she is still cackling. 

It falls to Leonie’s brother to confirm that, yes, the redhead he’s hugging _is indeed_ packed, they’re good to go, and Lorenz beams and kisses her cheek and she kisses the side of his head, and—

Lorenz’s father is still there, not that it matters much. 

“Lorenz,” he says in the tone of voice that used to curdle his stomach, hunch his shoulders, squeeze an icy hand around his heart. “What is this?”

“Oh, I got a job,” Lorenz says lightly, “I start next month.” 

Anyway. That’s how Lorenz gets himself disinherited, at his graduation, with his loved ones watching, and—it doesn’t matter. He played the game, played by the rules, and he’s already cashed out.

* * *

“Yeah, yeah, fed and clothed him for eighteen years, let him quote-unquote ‘suckle at your teat’ for four more—gross, by the way—blah blah, expensive, but that was _your job_ , dude. You’re supposed to provide for your own damn children.” It is possible, Lorenz thinks, that Leonie is tipsy, but—he’s heard her tipsy before, and this isn’t that. She is, he is fairly sure, stone-cold sober. “And another thing,” she says, and Lorenz—waits, out of eyeshot. “ _Your son_ , Mr. Gloucester, is brave and strong, and he grew up that way because of you. And it’s not to your credit, you old goat, you should be ashamed. Because you made him feel afraid and inadequate in his own home instead of raising _your kid_ to be—nurtured and loved. So you deserve all the nothing you’re going to get out of him for the rest of your miserable life.”

She almost trips into him on her way out. He catches her, steadies, her, and—she looks at him, doesn’t bother to ask how much he heard.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and she grins with all her teeth. They go.


End file.
